9 July 2026 – The Tivoli, Brisbane – words and pictures by Clea-marie Thorne
Thursday night is usually trying to behave itself, ’cos it’s a school night. Right? Nobody seems to be telling the black-clad line curling outside The Tivoli doors.
By the time Brisbane is finally getting through the doors after a late entry for VIP and general ticket holders, everyone is taking it with surprisingly good humour, even if a few bladders are probably negotiating with higher powers out on the footpath.
Cradle shirts are brushing against DevilDriver patches, old tour hoodies are standing beside corsets, boots, tradie shorts, heavy eyeliner and that particular smell of beer, hairspray, leather and anticipation is settling in early. I am certain subtlety has not been invited.
Double Trouble is one of those lineups that looks odd on paper until you are standing in the room with it. DevilDriver and Cradle of Filth are both extreme in their own lanes, but they are attacking from opposite ends of the graveyard. DevilDriver are the body-shot. Cradle are the burial ritual. One is groove, sweat and shoulders. The other is theatre, venom and candlelit chaos. Together, they are making more sense than they have any right to.
When I spoke with Dez Fafara ahead of the show, he was talking about the pairing working because the contrast was real, not despite it. Looking around The Tivoli, he is not wrong. There are plenty of punters here clearly belonging to both camps, and a few looking like they are willing to be converted by whichever band gets to them first.
DevilDriver are arriving under the guide of an audible storm. Seconds later the room is detonating on impact. ‘Clouds Over California’ is not easing anyone in. It is kicking the doors open, landing straight in the guts and turning whatever patience the crowd had been holding in the queue into immediate movement. Dez Fafara (vocals) is walking out to join the rest of the band like a man who has already done the work before tightening his vocal cords for the first time. This is not a warm-up slot. This is a full-strength opening statement with teeth in it.
DevilDriver – Tivoli – photos by Clea-marie Thorne
‘Not All Who Wander Are Lost’ keeps the floor moving before ‘Meet The Wretched’ starts dragging the set deeper into the older dirt. Jon Miller (bass) is giving the low end real weight, Alex Lee (guitar) and Gabe Mangold (guitar) are locking the front line into something sharp and filthy, and Davier Ortega Perez (drums) is not just keeping time behind them. Perez is driving the thing from underneath. Well, I think it is Perez. I actually cannot see the body behind the kit through the thick smoke.
Then ‘I Could Care Less’ is hitting and Brisbane is throwing the lyrics back hard enough to make Fafara grin long and wide. He is surveying the faces in front of him, taking in the noise, the hands, the bodies and the full-force welcome, then letting us know, “That! Was worth the long flight. That right there!”
He is not wrong either. The room is giving the energy straight back to the band, not waiting to be impressed, but actively feeding the thing until it is snarling louder.
DevilDriver – Tivoli – photos by Clea-marie Thorne
‘Dig Your Own Grave’ is landing with the fresh violence of the new record, fitting right into the set like it has always been circling this catalogue waiting for a place to bite. Fafara has framed the track around one wrong move, the kind made with too much nerve and not enough thought, and it is carrying that consequence straight into the live room. Just like I said in my album review, ‘Dead In The Water’ follows like the mercy was not respected. If ‘Dig Your Own Grave’ is the mistake, this is what happens when the lesson gets ignored.
There is something satisfying about hearing the newer material standing shoulder to shoulder with the old bruisers and not needing to apologise for itself. Mangold is bringing enough flash and filth to the guitar work to keep the newer songs moving with their own identity, while the rest of the band are making sure nothing drifts too far from the DevilDriver stomp.
DevilDriver – Tivoli – photos by Clea-marie Thorne
‘Hold Back The Day’ is bringing another old wound back into the room before ‘My Night Sky’ starts pulling more shadow through the set. It is one of those songs reminding everyone this band has always had more darkness in its bloodstream than people sometimes give them credit for. Fafara’s voice is sounding seasoned, not softened, just like on the new album ‘Strike And Kill’. More like scar tissue with a microphone.
Then ‘Sail’ is arriving and, somehow, the night finds another gear. In DevilDriver hands, it is less cover song and more hostile takeover. The AWOLNATION skeleton is still there, but the flesh on it is being dragged through dirt, grit and Fafara’s particular kind of threat. Then a wheelchair carrying one very brave fan is sailing toward the front of the stage, and the whole thing becomes one of those rare live music moments that makes the room hold its breath for half a second before roaring louder.
It is also one of those moments where everyone involved needs to be awake and switched on, and credit where it is due, security are handling it beautifully. Heavy music cops plenty from the outside, but inside the room, this is community muscle memory doing what it does best. Lift, move, catch, protect, celebrate. “SAIL!”
DevilDriver – Tivoli – photos by Clea-marie Thorne
‘Grinfucked’ is ripping us back into the set before Fafara warns us it is time for more talking. And talk he does. He is thanking the crews, acknowledging the work it has taken to pull the show together so quickly, and telling the room that this, all of this, the show, the people, the noise, is worthwhile. Brisbane is giving that love straight back with interest.
Then he is telling us how he is obsessed with a few things. Ahnastacia, his redhead and storms and rain. When on tour, he’ll leave his bus to go walk around in the rain until he is soaked. It is, of course, the lead-in to one of the first songs he wrote on their self-title album, ‘Cry For Me Sky (Eulogy Of The Scorned)’. The song opens up with Fafara telling us to “open up that pit!” and that DevilDriver mix of grit and release that feeds fan obsession, making us yell the lyrics from somewhere lower than the throat.
DevilDriver – Tivoli – photos by Clea-marie Thorne
‘The Mountain’ is making the room feel heavier again, all weight and stomp, before Fafara warns us we are on the last track and asks us “Are we having a good time tonight?”. ‘End Of The Line’ then chuggs on in to close the set with Fafara barking “Make some f..kin’ noise!”. Old-school detonation ensues. It is one of those DevilDriver songs having no interest in being clever when being effective is far more dangerous. No fluff. No fancy little detour. Just that familiar grind forward and a crowd knowing exactly when to throw itself into the thing.
DevilDriver are leaving the stage with the floor still shaking, with an extremely happy punter up on the balcony who had dropped the drumstick souvenir they’d caught, had it returned by the legends in the pit below.
During the break, the vibe in the room is changing. It is not quieter or softer, it’s like the air tense and waiting for something more ornate to crawl out of it. Cradle of Filth have always understood that heaviness does not have to arrive in a work shirt. Sometimes it arrives dressed like a nightmare, speaks in poetry and still puts a boot through your ribs.
The intro is doing its job, pulling the room out of groove-metal sweat and into something colder and more theatrical. Then ‘To Live Deliciously’ is opening the gates and Dani Filth (vocals) is suddenly there, all shriek, snarl and wicked little ringmaster energy. It is newer Cradle, but it is not being treated like an obligation. It is being used as an entrance spell.
Cradle of Filth – Tivoli – photos by Clea-marie Thorne
Martin ‘Marthus’ Skaroupka (drums) is sitting behind the kit and its Perspex screen. He is a machine possessed by a cathedral organ of skins. Daniel Firth (bass) is giving the low end its own sinister authority, Donny Burbage (guitar) and Joff Bailey (guitar) are slicing through the grandeur, and Kelsey Peters (keyboards/backing vocals) is giving the night that extra ghostly lift whenever the songs are opening their black wings. Her voice? Mesmeric.
‘Demagoguery’ is following and keeping the newer material up front, which is a smart move. Cradle are reminding us their catalogue did not stop in the nineties or noughties. They are bringing the current blood first, and the older ghosts are not far behind. The band are sounding huge, all speed, sweep and theatrical spite, with Peters’ vocals and keys giving the chaos somewhere beautiful and horrible to live.
‘Nocturnal Supremacy’ is where the old heads are getting their first real feeding. You can feel it rippling through the room before the song has fully unfurled its wings. There are certain Cradle titles that do not just belong to albums anymore. They belong to people’s bedrooms, first black shirts, bad eyeliner, borrowed CDs, late-night discoveries and whatever doorway first led them into this kind of beautifully overdone darkness.
Cradle of Filth – Tivoli – photos by Clea-marie Thorne
Cheeky Filth addressing the room with “Greetings Austria”. But just as the “oohs” are rolling from the mouths of fans, he cuts them off stating “I was close?” with grinning eyes. ‘Malignant Perfection’ is pulling us forward again, and the contrast between old and new is working rather than feeling like a tug-of-war. That is one of Cradle’s great tricks when they are on form. They can be absurdly theatrical, violently fast, melodically grand and completely ridiculous in the best possible way, yet somehow the whole bloody thing still holds its spine. It should collapse under the weight of its own drama. Instead, it keeps barreling straight into us.
Then ‘The Principle Of Evil Made Flesh’ comes crawling out and suddenly the age of the song does not matter at all. The Tivoli is not standing around admiring history here. It is reacting to it. There is something glorious about hearing a room full of people, some who were probably not born when this thing first slithered into the world, still giving themselves over to it.
‘How Many Tears To Nurture A Rose?’ is giving the set a more dramatic sweep, letting the gothic romance breathe through the blast and bite. Cradle can still make brutality feel perfumed without making it weak. That is a very specific gift. They are throwing darkness at the wall, rearranging it, lighting candles around it and then letting Filth scream over the top like a banshee with excellent diction.
Cradle of Filth – Tivoli – photos by Clea-marie Thorne
Of course ‘Nymphetamine (Fix)’ is the singalong moment. It always is. There is a kind of joy in watching a heavy room go soft around the edges without actually losing any of its darkness. Voices are lifting, phones are rising and the whole place is suddenly a sea of people pretending this song did not emotionally ruin them at some point in their lives.
With a perfect high-pitched agonized banshee-like shriek Filth brings us ‘White Hellebore’, a newer grandeur back into sonic focus before ‘Bathory Aria’ opens the set into something more sprawling and decadent and pretends to end the night. This is where Cradle of Filth are less band and more haunted theatre company with tremolo picking. It is excessive. It is dramatic. It is probably too much. Good. That has always been part of the point.
The eerie keys and cinematic orchestration continues playing. I’d say Filth is resting that throat. Before long they are back for the encore. ‘Gilded C..t’ is snapping things back into sharper attack, and ‘Cruelty Brought Thee Orchids’ is exactly the kind of late-set old wound Brisbane has been waiting to have reopened. There are songs making people cheer. Then there are songs making people pull a face like they have just been personally summoned. This is the second kind.
Cradle of Filth – Tivoli – photos by Clea-marie Thorne
By the time the set is closing in around ‘Her Ghost In The Fog’, the night has already done its double thing properly. Somewhere in that final stretch, guitar tech Anthony Ponce, aka “GuitarTechDaddy”, is stepping in and giving Brisbane one of those unexpected “hang on, the dude can actually sing” moments. The fans are roaring for it, and fair enough. The closer is doing what it needs to do, not just landing as nostalgia, but turning communal. The sort of ending where the song belongs to the band, yes, but also to everyone in the room who has carried it through years, phases, wardrobes, heartbreaks, bad decisions and better nights.
Then Cradle are gathering for the band photo, turning their backs to the room only so the crowd can become part of the shot. It is marking the end in the most modern ritual way possible. After all the gothic grandeur, all the blast, all the shrieks and all the beautiful overstatement, it is strangely perfect to glance down at the little printed reminder on the end of the Cradle setlist: “Get On The Beers!”
Honestly, fair. Both bands have more than earned it. DevilDriver have bruised the room into movement. Cradle of Filth have dressed the bruises in velvet and candle wax. What makes the Double Trouble pairing work is not sameness. It is the fact both bands understand commitment. DevilDriver are not doing theatrical darkness and Cradle are not pretending to be groove-metal bruisers. Each band is arriving fully in its own skin and Brisbane is meeting both of them there.
Cradle of Filth – Tivoli – photos by Clea-marie Thorne
The best part is how many fans are staying for both. This is not feeling like two separate audiences forced to endure each other. There are DevilDriver lifers staying for Cradle’s gothic theatre, Cradle devotees throwing themselves into DevilDriver’s groove-metal bruising, and plenty of us in the middle who have always had room for both the body-shot and the burial ritual.
DevilDriver are physical, direct and all shoulders. Cradle of Filth are ornate, wicked and all fangs. One makes the floor move. The other makes the ceiling feel like it should have gargoyles hanging from it.
Together, they gave The Tivoli a Thursday night that feels less like a gig and more like being jumped in an alley, dragged through a gothic cathedral, handed a beer and told to stop whinging because you bought the ticket.
Heavy music does not always need to make sense on paper. Sometimes it just needs the right room, the right crowd and two bands willing to commit completely to their own madness.
Dani Filth may have dressed the pairing as DevilDriver being the meat and potatoes and Cradle of Filth being the dessert, but Brisbane just got something less like dinner service and more like glorious misadventure. DevilDriver are knocking the room loose. Cradle are laying velvet over the wounds. Together, they are serving up the body-shot and the burial ritual. Not really sure anyone is leaving clean.
